Loneliest of All
by sayakas-heroic-bsod
Summary: Five times Weiss Schnee cried, and one time she didn't.


**TITLE: Loneliest of All **

**AUTHOR: **_sayakas-heroic-bsod_

**SUMMARY:** Five times Weiss Schnee cried, and one time she didn't.

**A/N:** Or, in which I choose the most cliché title possible for this character, whoops.

If we are home from college on Thanksgiving break, we must write RWBY fanfic. Sorry, I don't make the rules.

Fic influenced by "Missing" by Flyleaf.

* * *

She's six, and her socks are too short.

The edge of the skates on her feet cut into her bare ankles, promising a blister or two by the end of the lesson. It's bitter cold at the pond, the wind chilling like a bite.

_This will be fun,_ her instructor says, and he shows her how to push with one foot and slide across the ice, picking up speed with the other foot, then moving back to the first one. It takes a bit of time and she topples forward more than once, using her palms to cushion her fall. Every time this happens, an attendant skates over and picks her up, makes a big show of brushing her off.

Weiss cries after the fifth time her hands slam into the ice, but she takes care not to let anyone see.

By the end of the lesson her skin is pale with cold, save for her palms, which are red and chapped. But she does know how to skate.

* * *

She's eight, and it's two in the morning.

She wakes up to pitch darkness in her bedroom. She's panting and crying, just a little, not a lot. Wiping her tears, she banishes the bad dream from her thoughts.

Silently, she slides off the high bed (how will she get back up?) and, once her feet are solidly on the ground, pulls her favorite blanket off the top of the mound of bedspreads and pillows. She paces out of the room, dragging the soft, worn light blue quilt with her, because as long as she has it she isn't afraid of the dark.

Finally, after navigating the long corridors of the Schnee mansion, she finds her parents' bedroom. She doesn't need to jump to reach the door handle like she once did, not too many years ago.

The door swings open with not so much as a creak, and she steps inside. The room is very quiet.

(She'll suspect, when she's older, that the walls of her home are soundproof. Why else would no one come to her when she cries? When she was very young, people tripped over themselves in their eagerness to help her. As she ages even more, she'll realize it's not that no one can hear.)

Her feet pad softly across the plush carpeting until she reaches the end of her parents' bed. Tossing her blanket onto the wooden chest of drawers at the foot of the bed, she climbs onto the chest and stands on it, dragging herself and her blanket onto the soft covers.

Weiss crawls until she reaches the headboard. With some feeling around, she finds the edge of the bedspread and slides under the heavy fabric, her own blanket clutched protectively in her hands. The bed is cold, but its only occupant will warm it in time.

_Mother and father will be home soon, _she assures herself as she falls asleep. _They said they'd be home soon. Then they'll find me and spend time with me like they promised. _

(She'll realize it's simply that no one really cares.)

* * *

She's twelve, and her opponent's rapier comes just an inch too close to her face.

_Weiss!_ As she collapses to her knees in shock, her hand pressed to her left eye, she can hear quick footsteps approaching.

She pulls her hand away from her eye for the briefest moment, just to look at her palm. It's red and sticky wet and she feels lightheaded. Letting out a shaky exhale, she holds her hand to her eye again. _Great, _she thinks.

But soon someone is grabbing her free hand and pulling her up- it's her opponent, the young man assigned to teach her fencing in preparation for fighting. He looks panicked- he's probably aware that he'll be fired for this, if not sued. Her parents don't care when she's hurt unless it's visible, and this will be visible for a long time.

He's pulling her into a car; he's driving her to the hospital. The blood is running down her wrist in droplets- the cut will need stitches. Weiss tries very hard not to faint.

She feels pathetic enough, as a physician cleans the wound and dresses it with a bandage white like her clothes once were, that she decides something.

Weiss realizes how much she resents her family. She realizes everything they've given her has been given with the intention of keeping her busy. She's never been told _no _because as long as she has this empty happiness, she won't go looking for fulfillment.

She's bandaged and stitched and deposited in her bedroom. Once she is alone, she stares into the mirror and assesses the damage. Slowly, deliberately, she unwinds her perfect symmetrical hair and ties it into an off-center ponytail. She knows it looks marvelous, even though the tears in her uncovered eye make her vision swim. She just knows.

* * *

She's fifteen, and she has her first boyfriend.

She meets him through his parents, who are business partners of her father's. He's eighteen, in his second year at University. At the top of his class, so he tells her, and charmingly flashes two rows of straight white teeth at her. He's strong enough that he can pick her up and carry her. His hair and eyes are light, not unlike her own, and when those beautiful eyes wander, she pretends not to notice.

But he kisses her scars and she tells him her secrets, tells him of her loneliness and despair. She tells him how her new dream, to become a Huntress, has shocked her parents and how their surprise only further encourages her. He always responds the same way, with gentle words and endless compliments and everything she ever wanted. By her sixteenth year, she's completely in love.

So it's only natural that they take the next step, he says, and she melts. He loves her too, she can tell; his caring hold on her and his sweet kisses say he must. And this is what people who are in love do, right?

But he's insistent, and it's not what she expects. The romance novels she once read don't prepare her for the self-consciousness or the nervousness. He's so confident and as he tells her to relax, she wonders how many times he's done this, but even that doesn't make her trust him less. He seems so very calm, not on the verge of an anxiety attack the way she is. She practices her breathing exercises and eventually his grip on her body slackens. She lets out a quiet sigh of relief that it's over.

(She doesn't think, _maybe I'm not that attracted to him, maybe this was a bad idea._ The concept that she's been used couldn't be farther from her mind. She thinks, instead, that it'll be better next time.)

It doesn't get better in any of the "next times," and two days before she is to graduate from Signal, he breaks up with her. He cites the fact that she'll be moving away, and that she never should have taken seriously a relationship that began when she was fifteen. She doesn't cry until after he's good and gone. Loudly she sobs in her bed, hugging herself as if literally trying to keep from shattering into pieces, and it isn't for two months that her family notices he hasn't been around.

* * *

She's eighteen, and she is not amused by Ruby Rose.

Ruby is nice. But she's still odd and hyperactive. She's matured quite a bit from her first day at Beacon- she no longer jumps headfirst into battle without regard for the people around her. Her speed and Weiss' tact compliment each other, and they communicate well most of the time. One could even say that they were friends.

But sometimes Weiss will glance in her direction and find her already staring. The way Ruby quickly looks away, color rising to her face, makes her wonder. It gives the older girl ideas she shouldn't have, feelings that should never have surfaced.

So when Ruby comes to her one night, wakes her up when Blake and Yang are asleep, and asks if they can talk somewhere alone, she doesn't say no. She doesn't say, _go back to bed, Ruby, we have class tomorrow._ She rubs her eyes with the back of her wrist and climbs out of bed, grabbing a jacket and following her out of the room.

Ruby leads her to the roof, where Weiss shivers and asks what on earth they're doing here at this time of night. Morning, maybe- she didn't check. Ruby smiles apologetically. _Sorry, Weiss. But… I have something to tell you._

Weiss stares. _Okay,_ she says.

_I uh… _Ruby coughs awkwardly._ Don't know how to say this. But I like you. _

Weiss feels herself flush from her head to her feet. _You mean like… we're teammates. We're friends,_ she assures Ruby and, in a way, herself.

_Well yeah. But I kinda meant I like you different than that. _

Weiss can't breathe. _You mean you like me-like me? _She asks, mentally slapping herself for using such a childish euphemism to refer to something so important.

_Yeah! I mean it's just…_ Ruby laughs a little, holding her hands behind her back as if she doesn't know what to do with them. _We work really well together. And we're friends. And I've always thought you were pretty, and…_

_Ruby,_ Weiss interrupts. She hugs herself, half because of the temperature and half because she doesn't really know, either, what you're supposed to do with your hands during a confession. _How can you know this? You're sixteen. You can't…_ She cuts herself off when the hurt in Ruby's eyes gets to be too much. But she cares about Ruby too much to let the girl delude herself the way she did.

_You… don't even trust that I like you? _

_I-it's not that!_ Weiss's face is practically on fire and she wants nothing more than to go back to bed and avoid this whole mess. _I just don't want you to get hurt. _

_So you don't like me. _

_Well, I—_

_Yes or no, Weiss? _Ruby sounds so serious, so adult in this moment that Weiss nearly rethinks her impression of her being immature. But she knows better than anyone that doing and saying mature things at age sixteen does not an adult make. The recollection of all that pain, the crippling loneliness of being nothing more than a ripple in his wake, hits her hard. Her throat hurts, like it often does before a meltdown.

Weiss shakes her head. _I-I'm going back to bed. You should too, Ruby. Just go to bed and forget this. _She hates herself as she turns, more and more with every step away she takes and every tear that runs down her face.

* * *

She's eighteen still, and she is still not amused by Ruby Rose.

It's been a few days since they talked on the roof, and Ruby hasn't looked at her, let alone spoken to her since then. The pit in Weiss' stomach seems to get heavier with every awkward silence or unreciprocated glance.

It isn't that she doesn't like Ruby- it's more that she isn't sure.

Finally she has to say something. So this time it's her who stays up until long after the rest of team RWBY has gone to sleep, and it's her who shakes Ruby awake, asks _can we talk?_

So Ruby still hasn't said anything by the time they make it to the roof. She only turns to face Weiss and looks at her passively.

Weiss bites her lip as the other girl stares. _I, _she finally says to Ruby_, am sorry I left the other night. It wasn't fair of me. _

_It's okay._

_And furthermore, _she continues,_ you deserve an answer… t-to your question. _

Ruby seems to be doing her best to stay passive, but she's clearly interested if her expression is anything to go by. _Yeah?_

_I… don't know if I like you. The way you want me to._ Weiss manages, looking away.

_Oh._ Weiss would look back if Ruby hadn't sounded so hopeless. She doesn't want to see the pain in her face. She knows, very well, the feeling of lost hope and loneliness, and she endlessly regrets antagonizing the girl in their early days.

_But listen._ She forces herself to face Ruby again. She's looking at Weiss with that pained expression, and she wonders if Ruby is embarrassed. _Just because I don't, doesn't mean I can't. I mean, we're good friends, and… and I think you're really sweet and I like you a lot, so. _

…_Really? _Ruby's face has cleared. Now her demeanor is more positive.

_Yes!_ Weiss is relieved to have marginally fixed what she'd broken. _Just… let's wait a little, okay? I wasn't very successful romantically when I was your age,_ she says with as much humor as she can. _I'd feel a lot more comfortable if we waited. And got to know each other better, with these things in mind._

_Okay. _

Weiss thinks back to every time she's cried, and every time she's felt alone, and there's warmth in her chest when she thinks, _that was then. This is now. And you can be happy. _

Ruby's smile is contagious, so Weiss smiles, too.


End file.
